


The Black Plague

by Bhooms23



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Dementors, Disturbing Themes, Drama & Romance, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, F/M, Kidnapping, Plague, Post-Apocalypse, Post-War, Psychological Trauma, Rating: M, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Thriller, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:15:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29444676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bhooms23/pseuds/Bhooms23
Summary: Students return to Hogwarts to resume their seventh year of school, but they are soon horrified to discover that the dementors kiss has become contagious. This bacterial infection, causing humans to turn into hybrid dementors, has quickly spread throughout the world, and after a year, almost no one is left. When two highly unfriendly groups decide to stick together in order to survive, they must face the challenges of this new, plague-ridden world.~It was on the twelfth day, at the crack of dawn, that they finally stepped through a clearing of trees, into the ghostly streets of Harrow. Buildings were empty and worn, bricks crumbled down from the sides after months of neglect. Wild and overgrown plants cracked through the pavement and crept along walls, vines entwined around doorknobs and railings. Glass from shattered windows layered the ground, crunching sharply beneath their boots. They could hear the wind whistling an eerie tune through the streets, banging shutters and shaking doors, a nightmarish lull. Closed signs dangled against road side shops, vacant of life. Houses were devoid of light, unoccupied and lonely. It was a dark, forsaken city. A desolate waste land of ash and bone.~
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	1. 1.1 Granger

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! As you probably know by now, this is a dramione fic. I've never actually written one before or done anything like this, so thank you all for giving it a chance and reading it!
> 
> The same story is posted on my Wattpad, under the username Bhooms23, called The Black Plague. 
> 
> Leave your thoughts and feels in the comments and vote, I can't tell you how much it would mean to me!
> 
> I'll try to include trigger warnings in really big situations, but you should be forewarned, there are a few dark concepts in this story, including death, trauma, fighting, gore, thrill, sexual scenes, kidnap, and strong language.
> 
> On that fun note, I hope you enjoy the book! Happy reading!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Most characters and history of plot owned by JK Rowling.*

Hermione was glad to finally be back in the solitude of her Gryffindor dorms, she was relieved to have the chance of washing away the past and starting over.

Not that she would forget anything. How could she? Everything Hermione did and faced with her two best friends had all led up to the second Battle of Hogwarts, and not everything had been good. Although peace was finally setting in, the school was a reminder of everything she had endured, everything that had dragged and shaken her to bits and pieces.

Fred. Lupin. Tonks. Luna. Dobby. Cedric. Dumbledore. Snape. Might as well include her obliviated parents.

The list went on and on.

But it didn't matter, she decided. The past was in the past. And that was why getting the opportunity to redo seventh year meant so much to Hermione. It was a fresh start to the rest of her life, the opening of a new book she had yet to read.

A remarkable gift she never thought she'd live to receive.

Hermione sat by the ledge of a tall window in the girls dormitory, peering out at the moonlit school grounds. Tiny stars twinkled down at her, blinking in an almost playful manner. She'd come up a few minutes ago, after eating dinner in the Great Hall with her friends. Lavender and Parvati had already gone to bed exhausted. It was the third week of the school year and everyone had finally settled in.

Of course, nothing was exactly the same. Hermione could see it in the faces of her friends, how their eyes would glaze every once in a while, swallowed whole by grim memories of the war. She could see it in the way people would flinch at a sudden movement or an eerie sound. She noticed how even the teachers passed worried glances amongst each other when they saw certain students. Hermione saw it in her best friends, when Ron got unusually silent if his brothers were mentioned, or when Harry absently rubbed the tip of a finger over his scar. She saw it in herself, as she looked in the mirror, feeling an unmistakable hole left in her heart. Or in the faded words sharply etched over her wrist.

Hermione blinked, suddenly drawn back to reality by a floating voice from behind. Ginny had walked out of the bathroom, saying something to her. "Hermione? Did you hear me? Are you- You're thinking about before, aren't you?"

Hermione twisted back around, smiling slightly at the red haired girl. Hermione had almost always regarded Ginny as the little sister she never had, much more than just a friend. Ginny always seemed to know when something was troubling her. "No, just thinking about that potions test tomorrow. I need to go over the different uses of gillyweed and bezoars one more time." The lie flew through her mouth pretty easily, she couldn't remember when she'd started doing that.

Ginny eyed her, looking rather skeptical of Hermione's blunt excuse, but she finally averted her gaze, probably thinking it best to give some space. "You know you can always talk to me, right Mione? I'm here for you."

Hermione nodded earnestly, she didn't doubt Ginny one bit, but sometimes talking made it harder. Sometimes she couldn't find the right words.

She unfolded her legs and hopped down from the ledge, making her way to bed. The potions test was first thing in the morning, and Hermione knew Harry and Ron would be nagging her at breakfast for helping them with last minute terminology or facts. She muttered a good night to Ginny and shimmied under her thick blanket, nestling her head against the pillow and staring up at the red canopy.

Red. Like the color of Ron's hair, as the light from the fireplace of Grimuald Place illuminated it.

And suddenly Hermione was back there again.

_She was teaching Ron to play Fur Elise at Grimuald Place, during the hunt for horcruxes. She coaxed his hands over the keys, trying to move his clumsy fingers into making coherent music. He simply couldn't do it though, but he let her try to teach him anyway. They had been laughing whenever he pressed the wrong keys, going for a C minor instead of the F major. The notes flowed out from their shared hands on the large instrument like honey, sweet to their ears and golden in the dusky room._

_Harry sat by the couch, grinning madly at Ron's lousy performance. A warm flame flickered in the fireplace at the front of the room, glowing brightly and casting away dreary hues from the walls._

_"I don't know how you do it Mione," Ron turned to look at her, smiling in amusement._

_"You could do it if you actually tried Ronald," Hermione replied, teasing and shaking her head dramatically._

_"No really. I don't know how you do it. Mione. I don't know how you manage to ruin everything." His lips curled back, eyes becoming darker. Black. "You were always a pretentious little bitch in school, so how'd you fail so miserably? At the one thing we actually needed you to do? You could have saved them..."_

_The walls faded away until it was just the two of them, cold tendrils creeping in from an unknown source._

_Ron ripped his hands away from the piano, instead moving to grasp her arm. When Hermione looked down from the shock, she saw that long, crooked talons had replaced his nails._

_They dug and pierced into her skin, pouring hot blood down onto a stark white scar. Her label. The proof of her failure. MUDBLOOD._

Hermione blinked, and she was back in the dimly lit dorm room, feeling something wet on her cheeks and neck. Tears. She pulled her clammy hands out and quickly rubbed them away. There was a painful lump in her throat. She could hear soft snores coming from the other corners. Hermione wondered how many times a person could cry before they finally broke. How could she cry so much over something that had never happened?

But she couldn't stop the images from barging in, they had started rather suddenly after the war. Sometimes they were the same, sometimes they were new, but they were always creative, managing to shake her each and every time.

This one was new. A horrid spin on what she had considered one of the happiest memories of her past.

It didn't make any sense though, she knew Ron would never blame her for what happened. Unless a deep, hidden part of her actually thought that what Ron said was true. Maybe she unconsciously blamed herself, it would be a common pattern from the other things she saw.

It was true wasn't it? She could have done better. She'd read so many books, done so much research, and in the end it didn't matter. Because she had let them down, people she cared about still died.

Hermione stopped thinking as she realized what her brain was doing. She was trying to rationalize what had happened, what she had just seen. But it wasn't rational, it wasn't true. She had to believe that.

So she shut her eyes tight, squeezing them until the strong lull of sleep dragged her misleading senses away. It was the only time she found complete peace, wrapped in the solitude of dreamless night. Hermione drifted off into the dark sky.

She woke up to sounds of the other girls slowly groaning and waking up, bustling around to get ready for the day. Hermione threw her blankets back and got up too, her arms and legs were still stiff from lack of movement. She stumbled into the bathroom and brushed her teeth, then grabbed a towel and her uniform, heading into a shower stall.

When she came back out, Hermione felt a little more relaxed from the night's events, but she still felt groggy. Soaked brown curls hung past her shoulders, stopping mid-back. Her hair had grown longer through the months, the weight helped keep it down, she'd come to learn. She dried it with her wand and swept it back, plaiting it into a simple French braid.

She pulled on her socks and shoes while chatting with the girls about silly things. Hermione didn't gossip, but she found it quite entertaining to hear what Lavender and Parvati came up with, it was as good a distraction as any. Something that reminded her of the simpler days.

They were talking about a party that the boys were planning on crashing.

"I heard it was Dean's idea, they want us to go with them!" Lavender squealed, clearly excited for action.

"We're definitely going! It would be so fun, we haven't done anything like it in so long!" Parvati practically shook with excitement. It was true, Hermione vaguely thought, early sixth year was the last time they had any sort of party.

Ginny grinned back, shrugging, "Well, why not go with them? We deserve some fun too and I haven't had some real fun in a while." She eyed Hermione, "You're coming right? You have to!"

"I don't know- ," Hermione was stopped from saying anything else by the pouting of three Gryffindor girls.

Honestly, they were supposed to be mature now.

Hermione glanced around, parties weren't really her thing, especially since last time she saw Ron making out with Lavender, but that was all in the past. Ron and her had decided to stay friends after the first month, realizing the whole relationship thing wasn't really their piece of pie. They remained close and laughed about the awkwardness, which Hermione was great full for, he really was an amazing friend. And she did truly love him, just not in that way.

She didn't want to be left out. Oh well, it would be a good distraction anyway.

She finally grinned back, "So when's the party?"

Hermione and Ginny joined the boys in the common room and made their way down to the Great Hall. As expected, everyone was drowning her in questions for the test they would be having soon.

Harry hastily pushed his messy, raven hair out of his face when they were seated. "So three drops essence of Dittany or two?" Ron eagerly bent his head forward, trying to catch what her answer would be. Even Ginny had the nerve to be waiting for a response and she wasn't even in their class.

Hermione glared at them, as well as the rest of the table, who were obviously eavesdropping.

"Did any of you study at all?" She asked exasperated. Harry's green eyes suddenly found an invisible mark on the table very interesting, Ginny snickered, and Ron was busy shoving food into his mouth. Hermione sighed, "Two."

The whole table seemed to visibly slouch in relief.

Hermione knew her friends were smart, Harry and Ginny were in a few advanced classes and Ron had an unusually remarkable talent in strategizing, even she couldn't beat him in chess. But she still wished they took their classes as seriously as she did, spending an hour... or five for studying really wasn't that big of a deal.

She'd been reading more books than ever since the start of the school year, trying to loose herself in the world of literature. Shakespeare, Harper Lee, Homer, Charles Dickens, Machiavelli. She'd reread them multiple times, entranced by the lives and ideals of foreign characters.

Seamus yelled from across the table, "Does dragon liver come after or before the clobber worms in Mandrake Drought?"

"Before," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes.

And so breakfast continued on like that, with questions flying around, goblets smacking on wood, and forks clanking nervously on plates. Conversation buzzed across the room and Hermione couldn't help feeling a sense of calm, things were finally normal, or as normal as they could be.

When breakfast was done, she and the boys hurried through crowded hallways and down into the dungeons, arriving at Slughorn's classroom. They quickly took their seats and Hermione sat still, quill in hand, waiting for the teacher to hand out tests. She felt a small pang in her heart at the absence of a certain greasy haired, hook nosed professor, however intolerable he used to be.

She was running over the different methods of chopping fluxweed when a flash of hair caught her eyes. Hermione couldn't help turning her head to look up, just like she did every other time potions class started this week.

He sauntered in with Blaise and Goyle and settled into a desk by the corner of the room, chuckling at something one of them had said. His grey eyes looked forward and swept over Ron, the faint lines of an arrogant smirk set in place.

Malfoy's lips twitched slightly, disdain clear. She couldn't see Ron's expression, but Hermione imagined it to be annoyed.

None of them had said anything to each other since last year, but the tension was obvious. Harry had eased up on the rivalry, but Ron could never understand why they had saved the Slytherins from the fiendfyre.

She hadn't thought to notice him in the Great Hall, distracted from all the questions, but she secretly lingered on his form now for three seconds and looked away. He had grown taller and broader through the months. He was rather slender, but taught, defined muscles could be seen under his uniform. Pale skin and platinum blond locks contrasted the dark green of his robes, and a silver ring glittered on his finger, where his hand twirled a quill around. She watched as the same hand set the quill down to wipe a few loose strands of hair off his forehead.

But none of that erased the traces of dark circles under his eyes.

Hermione didn't know why she started looking, but since last year, the same question had been nagging at her head every time she saw him.

Why?

Why did he fake ignorance at the Manor instead of handing them over?

Harry had told her everything that happened at the Astronomy tower, how Malfoy had said that he didn't have a choice, he was protecting himself and his family. So then why feign unfamiliarity at the Manor if his life was at stake? It didn't make sense, he had a chance of redemption laying on the oak wood floors of his house, the dark side would have won. And they despised each other. So why?

He was too much of a coward to kill Dumbledore himself, but somehow calling Voldemort to kill the trio was just as hard for him?

She was curious and her mind twisted, trying to come of with possible theories and validations.

Hermione snapped out of her daze when Professor Slughorn handed their tests out, sitting back into his chair at the front of the cold room with a bubbly, "Good luck!" She let her brain take over and circled answers with practiced ease for the next forty minutes. She was the first to hand her test in.

When the rest of the class had sulkily gotten up to give their papers back, whispering the answers they got to people around, Slughorn silenced everyone.

"Settle down now boys and girls, I'm sure you did nicely on the test."

Someone snorted.

Slughorn continued on merrily, "I have some strange news for you all that Headmistress Mcgonagall has requested for the teachers to share. There has been word from the Ministry of Magic that a new virus is starting to spread."

The class instantly erupted in noise, yelling about what that meant or what they thought would happen. No one was really eager for another big disturbance in their newly peaceful lives.

Hermione frowned, raising her hand high in the air.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"What exactly does that mean Professor? Have they found the origins of the virus? Or explained the symptoms?"

"I'm afraid information is very limited at this point. The only thing they've told us is that the infection has something to do with dementors. Those with the virus are being carefully examined, but they just want us to be aware."

The news was shocking to several people, but no one thought it was that big of a deal. In her other classes, Hermione's professors gave similar information about the virus, but they said it was nothing to worry about. Her arithmency teacher said it would probably be over in a month, her charms teacher said that it may have even been a hoax.

But Hermione couldn't stop thinking about it.

A virus coming from dementors? That seemed pretty dangerous to her. She talked about it with her friends, but they didn't really seem to mind too much. They passed it off by calling it a little flu, or maybe something similar to the effects of dragon pox.

So she left it alone too.


	2. 1.2 Malfoy

_His mother stood to his right, putting a shaky hand on his shoulder. Draco couldn't tell if she was trying to reassure herself, or reassure him. Either way it wasn't working, they were absolutely fucked. Both his parents had warned him to keep his mouth shut._

_Her usually formidable posture and graceful stance was strained under tension, her elegant fingers clung to him for support. He wanted to comfort her and tell her they would be ok, but he couldn't. Because it wasn't true. He was going to topple over any minute now._

_His father was standing to the other side of his mother, stepping slightly in front of her. Dirty strands of hair covered his waxy face, he looked more grim and desperate than ever before._

_"Please my Lord, have mercy," he practically choked out._

_The Dark Lord sat in front of them, laying lavishly on the black leather couch of their living room. Draco couldn't decide if he wanted to laugh out loud or remain terrified and quivering. His father had always been some sort of pet dog to the Dark Lord, but even when they were about to undeniably die, was it really necessary?_

_The Dark Lord rose, eyeing his father with contempt. He spoke in a malicious, raspy voice, "Really Lucius, I expected more from you. The Malfoy family had the most prestigious pureblood line, you could have lived happily under my rule. I've given you several chances, but how many is too much?"_

_He laughed mirthlessly, well it was more like a hiss, Draco thought. "I underestimated how weak this family was. You and your boy have failed missions multiple times, and lovely Narcissa thought she could get away with lying. I've grown tired of waiting for you to prove your loyalty."_

_The Dark Lord sighed lazily, pulling the Elder wand from out of his robes. His father paled, flinching and Draco could feel his mother's hold stiffen on his shoulder._

_"Please," she said in low, broken sobs. Draco had only ever heard her cry like this once before, and that was when he had been forced to take the dark mark. "My lord, have mercy on our son. Draco hasn't done anything wrong, it is from our failures that he has not proved useful. Spa- spare him! He's... just a boy."_

_His father bowed on one knee at the Dark Lord's feet, hanging his head. Draco clenched his hands, trying to remain silent._

_He wanted to scream at his parents. Shout at them for simpering to this man, they were the Malfoys. They had been respected and revered for generations, they bowed to no one._

_"My Lord, I beg you. We have not been faithful servants to your cause and we do not deserve your lenience, but Draco can prove himself. He will."_

_The Dark Lord considered the man on the floor carefully, glancing once at his mother and finally settling on Draco himself. A reptilian smile spread across his face, red eyes gleaming in amusement. "Very well, I suppose the boy may live... I could always use a little house elf to wipe my feet."_

_Draco looked up from the spot he'd been staring at on the ground. The Dark Lord was suggesting that he... that he..._

_"No! My Lord please-"_

_With a swift flick of the Elder wand, and a quick snarl of the unforgivable killing curse, his mother's grip on his shoulder had instantly released._

_He looked utterly terrified to where she lay unmoving on the floor. Draco heard ringing around his ears, like the silence after a deafening crack of thunder. He let out a strangled, guttural cry, still in shock at what had just happened. He fell to floor, fingers fumbling to shake her, "Mother! Mother please! Mum..."_

_His heart was pounding painfully, and hot tears sprang to his eyes, but he quickly blinked them away at the harsh look his father gave him._

_His father looked inches away from being dead himself, as if the light of his entire world had been leeched out. He had known that this would somehow be the outcome. She's your wife! Draco wanted to snarl. But his father quietly shook his head, his eyes were glazed and...broken. Don't, he seemed to say._

_Draco did as he was told. As he always did. As he always would._

_The Dark Lord simply turned away from his dead mother's body, acting as if he had just disciplined a particularly naughty child._

_"Let this be a reminder to all who try to undermine me," his eyes slowly traveled along the silent death eaters staring from the edges of the room. They didn't explicitly hold any respect for the Malfoys after everything that had happened, but if one pureblood family could fall, so could another._

_He finally landed on Draco's father. Draco gulped down the aching lump in his throat, knowing what was about to happen._

_"Lucius, is there anything you would wish to say before you go?"_

_His father kept his eyes on Draco, unwavering but beaten. "Draco, I know I've asked a lot of you, but I'm asking once more. Just...stay... for us."_

_Draco simply stared at him, his head was spinning and his eyes hurt from holding everything in. There was a deep fissure forming in his occlumency, like a broken dam. Even after everything his father had forced him to do, after all the danger he'd opened their lives too, Draco hadn't protested. But this, this was too much._

_Don't leave me here._

_"Touching," the Dark Lord sneered before brandishing his wand in front of the wrecked man. "Avada kadevra!"_

_His father sank like a stone in water, his breath swept away by dark currents of an endless sea._

Draco woke with a start, his neck cold with small beads of sweat. He shoved his hair away from his eyes, heart beating rapidly, and pushed himself up. He looked wildly around the dark Slytherin boys' dormitory. Silvery water sloshed against the tall window pains, illuminating dark brown, wooden floors. Sea weed rose from the depths of the lake, swaying softly against the panes, creating a gentle patting rhythm.

He rubbed his eyes, blinking a couple times to get rid of his sleepy state.

Another nightmare.

His parents hadn't actually died, but ever since the Dark Lord had appeared in his life, the same images plagued Draco's head almost every night and the end of the war hadn't stopped them. His parents dying, him dying, muggles dying on his dining table, Katie Bell almost dying, Dumbledore dying, Crabbe dying, his other school mates dying.

Suffice to say people usually died.

And he had no power to stop it from happening.

Draco slowly pulled his blankets off, grabbing a hoodie and his wand, silently making his way across the room and through the door. He crept down the stairs and headed out the common room door, into ghostly halls.

Draco knew the secluded path like the back of his hand, he could walk there with his eyes closed. He hadn't been there since last year after the whole incident with Dumbledore, but he walked there now. His shoes slapped against the cold stone steps as he traveled up the winding staircase.

The astronomy tower was cool under the late moon, a slight breeze sweeping across. Draco made his way to the ledge, gazing down at the shadowy school grounds. It felt jarring to be up here again, yet familiar. He had several nightmares of the night he was supposed to carry out his task, if you could call it that. Scenes of the late headmaster toppling off the side of the rail, falling down, down, down. He could almost hear the cackling of his aunt and see the green outlines of the dark mark in the sky.

Instead, when he looked up, tiny stars winked back down, no trace of dark magic in sight. It calmed him. Sometimes he felt like they were the only things he could actually communicate with, even if they just blinked back, they acknowledged him. He wondered if someone was actually up there, trying to talk to him.

Draco let his occlumency walls drop, feeling the full force of his grave nightmares and churning emotions.

They were tokens of the past.

As if Draco needed reminding. He remembered every time a first year whispered as he walked through the halls, he remembered when the teachers passed worried glances to each other. He remembered when Potter's hound would glare at him from across the room.

And he remembered every time he looked down at his left wrist, eyeing the black lines and feeling the faint burn of what was once a scorching heat.

Draco often wondered what would have happened if he did have the nerve to kill Dumbledore, maybe his father wouldn't have been in Azkaban, serving a life sentence. Maybe he wouldn't have been forced to return to Hogwarts under probation by the ministry as an alternative to prison. Maybe his mother wouldn't have left for France as soon as Draco had been dragged to school, feeling lonely within the dark walls of the manor. He would never know.

Honestly, Draco didn't care about the simpleton muggleborns and he certainly didn't give a damn about Potter. But Dumbledore had been right, he wasn't a killer. He wasn't an assassin, no matter how many times he tried, he couldn't do it. And he hated himself for that, for feeling so powerless. He hated everyone else too.

He could feel the anger slowly ebbing it's way into his mind. Maybe he should have just killed them all. It might have been worth it. It would have been better than being isolated from his family and shunned by the entire wizarding population. Because now he was left in pieces, grasping for broken shards and tattered fabric.

He did everything for his family. He did it for their approval, he did it to save them from the sadistic wrath of the Dark Lord. And now they were the one thing he didn't have.

He should have fucking handed Potter over. Could have. Didn't.

Draco never had much control of his life, which was why he made sure to pose authority to everyone at school. Whether it was the stupid groundskeeper or a little first year Draco was bullying, he made sure to show them who had the control, who had the power. He had been tired of living under fear his whole life, so he invoked it amongst everyone else.

Now, he was too tired to do that either. In fact, he didn't have to try at all. Who didn't either hate, or fear an ex death eater?

Draco stayed there for hours, staring up at gleaming stars until they slowly faded into the rosy sunrise. When he heard high chirps sounding from the tree line, he quietly slipped out and made his way back to the dorms, not wanting to be seen by anyone else.

His occlumency walls were yanked back up.

He threw the covers back over his face until Goyle's thunderous snoring slowed to a stop and shuffling could be heard from the sides.

The boys slinked around, trudging into bathrooms or noisily yanking robes over their heads. Draco took a quick shower and pulled on his uniform, finally raking a comb through his damp hair, getting annoyed with a single lock at the front that wouldn't quite settle in. He sprayed a puff of cologne into the air, swiftly stepping into it, before reaching down to lace his shoes. Draco twisted his signet ring around his finger when he was done, an old habit that his father had warned him to stop.

Blaise and Theo were talking to him about the party they were throwing tomorrow night. The only good thing about being trapped in this prison were his inmates.

"I haven't seen Daph's legs in so long," Theo sighed, zoning out, thinking of Merlin knew what.

Blaise grinned cheekily, "Bet Draco has, the sneaky son of a bitch got action from both Greengrass sisters."

Draco winked back, "One was better, I'll tell you that."

"So was it like both of them at the same time or-"

"Theo, shut up."

"Well I'm just asking!"

Blaise rolled his eyes, "The only action I've gotten so far is watching Miss Norris rub herself against a tree. I was torn between running and watching."

"It probably turned you on."

"Yeah, wouldn't you like to know, animal boy?"

"Hey, let's just say I know a fantastic beast when I see one."

Blaise and Draco wrinkled their noses, making disgusted faces by what Theo was implying.

"You think Pansy's wearing that short green chiffon slip again? Man would I love to see that."

"I'd rip it off with my teeth," Goyle said, lumbering over to join the conversation.

"Goyle, you handsome little ladies' man, you know just how to get them drooling," Draco drawled, raising an eyebrow at his large, but simpleminded friend.

Goyle was always looking for some master to serve. Once the Dark Lord had lost, the big dope had gone back to clambering behind Draco, except now it was only one instead of two.

"Yeah Gregory, when'd you become such a romantic?"

And so they bickered on like that while getting ready and eating breakfast, teasing Goyle or joking about their classes. They hudled together, ignoring the jeering and leering of the outside world and keeping to themselves.

Draco could hear people talking about the virus from other ends of the Great Hall, inquiring about the latest information.

It had been almost two weeks since Slughorn last mentioned it in class, but the Ministry had finally started handing out proper details. Apparently symptoms included fever, coldness, irrational fear, and irrational sadness.

So it felt normal then?

It took about a week to develop once someone made contact with the disease. The ministry still hadn't said much about it's origins or what the outcome of contracting it was, or even how it was transmitted. They mentioned that it was dangerous and should be reported immediately, but they never said why.

Draco hadn't thought much about it, but the last thing he wanted was an infection. He reminded himself to make sure Theo washed his hands. He was sure as hell not getting sick because of that nasty fucker.

When breakfast was over, he left with Blaise and Goyle, heading across the hallway and down the stairs, into the dungeons for potions class.

He wasn't particularly excited to see crackhead, or the sidechick, and least of all, Weaselby, but they hadn't talked to him since last year. Draco got an unbearable sense of resentment seeing their stupid faces everyday, his occlumency was the only thing keeping him in check. There was no way he'd let himself end up in prison for screaming at those hags .

The golden twats hadn't grilled Draco on what had happened at the Manor since their little showdown at the room of requirements, and frankly he was glad for that because he wouldn't have known what to say. Draco didn't know if he was ashamed that he hadn't done something more, or ashamed that he refused to name them when his family was under threat. He was even more uncomfortable thinking about Potter getting them out of the feindfyre.

So he ignored them for the most part, or at least he tried to. They were about as subtle as Longbottom on a broom, which was to say not subtle at all.

While making their way, Draco noticed a group of first years eyeing him in what was probably contempt or horror. He had the sudden urge to scare them. He wasn't going to shove them into the stone walls like he did before, so he settled with a snarl instead.

Draco didn't know why he did it. Partly because it was funny seeing the little boys turn red and scamper away, but partly because it was satisfying.

It was normal to him, and while fear engulfed Draco at night, no one else needed to know that. He wouldn't be scared in the day. So he continued on with his chuckling friends, smirking to himself.

Old habits died hard.


	3. 1.3 Granger

Hermione was dreadfully getting ready with Ginny and the other girls for the party that Saturday night. They were practically catapulting silky clothing around the air, trying to find the best fit.

Hermione didn't understand why they couldn't just wear jeans and sweaters to this party. Why wear flimsy, thin strapped dresses when they had comfortable pants at their disposal?

Lavender shrieked when she voiced the question out loud. "Jeans aren't the solution to everything Hermione, you need some spice every once in a while."

Ginny nodded in agreement wholeheartedly, "Plus, if we don't look the part, they'll find us too easily and just kick us out."

She tousled on a little red dress that her flaming hair partnered nicely with. She'd bought it a week ago at hogsmeade, the oldest students were allowed to go earlier this year. Then she held up a silky black dress to Hermione, who forcibly slipped it on.

The smooth, gauzy material shined slightly under the dormitory lights, there was a small strip of translucent lace bordering the v-neck collar line.

If they were going to crash a party, they might as well go all out.

Dean and Seamus had concocted the whole idea, dragging the rest of their group into it. They still hadn't mentioned who's party they were crashing, saying it was a surprise. The girls would know soon enough.

When Ginny was done with her own hair, she turned to Hermione, pulling her thick curls out of the braid and splaying them down her back instead. Hermione used a quick charm to make sure they stayed pliant for the night, she wouldn't be walking around with a bushy halo. She let Parvati apply a small coat of mascara onto her lashes, but adamantly pushed her away when she started offering lipstick. That was crossing the line.

When everyone was done, they exited the dormitory and walked down the stairs to the common room, where the boys stood waiting. Harry smiled delightfully at Ginny.

Ron determinedly kept his eyes off his sister, who he had tried convincing not to go, but when they landed on Hermione, he gave her a sheepish grin. Hermione's cheeks faintly bloomed red, she'd never really worn anything like this before.

Seamus grinned wickedly before asking Harry to pull out the marauders map, which showed secret passageways throughout the school. They quietly slipped out of the common room, making sure not to wake the sleeping portrait of the fat lady, and scolding Neville every time he clumsily tripped. They couldn't risk getting caught by Filch and his stupid cat, or Peeves. Harry led them past a hall and straight into an old tapestry, which opened up into a secret tunnel. The path seemed to be going down.

Hermione suddenly felt a bit queasy... it wasn't... they weren't going to the Slytherin's common room by any chance, were they?

When the tunnel ended, they stepped out of a square doorway, hidden behind another tapestry in the dungeons. A portrait awaited in front of them. That confirmed it. They were crashing a Slytherin house party. Brilliant.

She glanced at Harry, who looked to be perfectly fine with this, enthusiastic even. Seamus and Dean stepped forward, one of them holding a small slip of paper, which no doubt had a password written on it, probably stolen from a first year. Hermione thought that they had taken it upon themselves to retain the legacy of the Weasley twins, not replacing their famous talent for commotion, but rather keeping it alive.

"Salazar almighty."

The Gryffindors snorted, Hermione shook her head. Of course, how foreseeable. At least it wasn't "pureblood".

The portrait sneered at them, reluctantly swinging open after a few awkward minutes. As they stepped through a silencing charm, music instantly pounded against their ears. The group shuffled in and the painting slammed shut behind them.

Hermione had never seen the Slytherin common room before, but there was an eerie sort of beauty to it. Harry and Ron had described it to her during their second year, but they hadn't done it justice. A sparkling chandelier hung high from the ceiling, its light reflecting off dusky water lapping against windows. The waves cast bobbing ripples over the crowd. Black and brown leather couches were spotted around the packed room, everything was sharp and macabre. Dark oak wood tables had been pushed to the edges, making more space. They were littered with different glass bottles containing liquids of deep red, cerulean blue, and glistening amber, probably different types of booze.

It was so similar yet, vastly different from her own common room. The setup was cold and daunting, daring those who came to enter at their own risk, but offering the world in return. The soft scarlets and golds of the Gryffindor room enticed people in a different manner, looking rather inviting and safe, offering you every inch of its beating heart instead.

Her own heart pounded loudly in the hazy room, which was tinted green. From some far corner she couldn't see, there must have have been a source to cause all that flashing. The air was heavy with the smell of alcohol and tangy cologne.

Curiosity had destroyed Hermione's resolve. She was more than a little interested to know what a Slytherin party would be like. So she didn't resist much when Ginny pulled her into the large crowd, separating themselves from the other Gryffindors.

"Come on, they won't notice, they're too preoccupied."

Ginny was right, most of them were too drunk to spare the intruders a second glance.

Blaise Zabini was off getting hammered with some girl. Daphne Greengrass and Millicent Bullstrode had been dancing deep in the crowd, moving their bodies to the pounding music. Theodore Nott was, well... let's just say it made Hermione blush.

Ginny cast a quick wingardium leviosa to conjure one of the auburn bottles and a pair of glasses through the air. She poured the liquid in and gulped it down in one shot, motioning for Hermione to do the same. Hermione hesitantly chugged it down, an instant burning sensation seeping down her throat. The girls had no idea what they were ingesting, but it hadn't been tampered with because a bunch of others were drinking it too.

It was like drinking from the River Lethe, hypnotized by oblivion, dragged and submerged under beckoning tides of tempting forgetfulness.

Hermione's body instantly relaxed, falling into a sort of loosened rhythm against the music. A faint buzzing surrounded her head, but it felt good, like soft hums. She could feel her shoulders ease up, and heard herself laughing dazedly with Ginny. Memories of her past slipped soundly through her mind, lost amongst the crowd with everyone else's.

As the music picked up, they started pumping their hands up, swaying to the beat. Hermione could sense herself unwinding like a broken clock. They giggled with each other, especially when a drunken Slytherin blinked at them, rubbing his eyes in confusion and stumbling away.

Ginny handed Hermione another drink and she was just about to shake her head to say no, still drowning under the first one, when her eyes had caught on to a flash of platinum blond. She squinted to get a closer look, but quickly wished she hadn't. Hermione certainly understood what Ginny had meant by "preoccupied".

They had been dancing to the music when Hermione noticed them. He stood behind Pansy and his hands tugged her waist closer to him, grinding against her to the blasting beat. Then they moved closer to the edge, and he suddenly had Pansy up against a wall, his knee was between her thighs, slowly rubbing up and down. He had one hand up in her soft, dark hair, the other clasped around her neck. Hermione saw his pink lips leave Pansy's mouth to start a trail of kisses along her jaw. She heard the moan escape from Pansy's lips, and saw Malfoy pull back enough to give the girl a lazy grin, and resume.

Pansy pulled them around so that his back was now the one facing the wall. Malfoy held her against him, his arms starting to slide down to rest against the hem of her short dress. He was leaning in again, peppering kisses down her upturned neck when his grey eyes suddenly flicked up and landed on Hermione's. Where she was stood staring.

She could feel a burning blush flowering across her neck, but his eyes had ensnared hers. He paused, looking a little startled, obviously wondering why there were Gryffindors in the Slytherin common room.

His flushed lips were slightly opened, and when Hermione finally noticed she was still gawking at them, she quickly twisted her head away. She grabbed Ginny and moved deeper into the crowd, fumbling to put distance between what had just happened. She'd probably blown their cover.

Hermione yanked the drink out of Ginny's hands, gulping it down to refuel that fizzling in her system, once again submerged under a boisterous haze. 

As the night wore on, she and Ginny stumbled into Harry and the others, who were actually playing a drinking game with a few Slytherins around a table. Ron threatened to tattle on the Slytherins if they got kicked out and everyone was too buzzed to care about houses right now. Parvati was even making out with one of them on the couch. She was gonna have a hell of a time explaining that when everyone was sober. Hermione knew that come morning, the hostilities would be back.

Seamus beckoned Hermione and Ginny to join the drinking game with Harry, Ron, Dean, Pansy, Millicent, Daphne, and Blaise. She was willingly walking into a nest of serpents.

Boomslang, Death Adder, King Cobra, Banded Krait. She didn't want to get bitten.

Blaise grinned, pulling a little bottle from out of his pocket. Verita serum.

"Truth or dare? We'll ask a question, you can either drink up the verita serum and spill your secrets, if not, then the group decides on your task."

They nodded and got in a little circle around the table. Hermione had a queasy feeling about this, but her head was highly irrational right now. Too bad she depended on it for most things.

"I'll go first," Millicent offered.

Blaise sloppily grinned at her, "Is it true you told Theo you loved him on your one night stand?"

Millicent, turned a deep scarlet, Pansy snickered next to her, trying to hide her smirk.

Her lipstick was slightly smeared.

Millicent took a sip of the serum, "Yes, I knew that was the only night we'd ever actually been together, but I couldn't help it. He was pounding me and I was delirious," she mumbled out.

Hermione turned away, trying to hide her expression, she honestly felt bad for the girl. Hermione wasn't an expert in the whole romance thing, but that was a bit embarrassing.

Millicent shook her head and looked around, settling on Ron.

"Your turn. Is it true you had Lavender sucking honey off your body after that quidditch party you guys threw?"

Ron blanched, looking around the wide eyed, guffawing group. He seemed torn between answering the question or doing a dare, which would undoubtably be worse. He finally sipped the serum, avoiding eye contact with Hermione. "It was gravy."

Blaise burst out laughing, even Harry couldn't help but join in. Ginny pretended to vomit at the side.

Ron stark, blue eyes turned to Daphne, desperately trying to get the unwanted attention off himself, "I heard Malfoy's slept with you and your sister, were you aware?"

Daphne gaped at him, unsure what to say. Hermione reddened, thinking back to what she'd just seen him do to Pansy. She hoped she'd never see that again. Bleh.

"You heard what about me?" Came a low drawl from the side.

Hermione could see Ron's annoyed expression and a smirk blooming across Blaise's face. They turned to see Malfoy strutting over, his ring lethargically clanking around the full glass that he was carrying.

The first three buttons of his white shirt were opened and his green tie hung loose around his neck. His silvery hair was disheveled in a boyish manner, but even drunk, his elegance remained. 

Black Mamba. Paralysis. Six hours tops. Deadly.

Hermione's heart thrummed under all the alcohol, she turned back around before she did something stupid.

It was the first time he spoke to acknowledge Ron, or any of the Gryffindors for that matter. He must have been pretty knackered.

"Finally, I was wondering where you'd gone off to. You're just in time to join our game," said Blaise. Pansy shuffled over to give him space in the little circle.

Hermione could feel his gaze pass through the group and land on her, as he stepped in.

"Do I even want to know why we have a bunch of under developed kittens in here?"

"Lions," Seamus said, "and we're here to crash the party."

Malfoy turned his attention to him, "So do you start stripping on the tables after or before you crash the party?" He asked pointedly, gesturing to Lavender, who was doing just that.

Hermione wanted to slap her face and tell her to get down. The worst thing was, Lavender seemed the least drunk out of all of them. Oh well, if the girl was having fun, who was she to judge?

"I also believe Longbottom was asking for his grandmother in some corner," Malfoy snickered.

They paused for a moment, trying to imagine how high Neville was.

Real smooth Neville.

Ginny left the group, saying that someone should probably check up on them. She disappeared into the crowd.

"Ok, I have a question for the golden girl," Pansy declared, after a few more rounds. "If you had to kiss one of us, who would it be?"

Hermione looked at her, unsure what to do. The answer should have been easy: Ron. It was the obvious thing to say and the one that made the most sense, even though they weren't together anymore. But Hermione didn't know if she would say that when under the influence of verita serum. She wasn't really sure she wanted to find out, let alone tell everyone else. But what if the dare was worse? Her sluggish mind whirred terribly to come up with the best solution.

Her eyes flicked across a finger with a silver ring. She was already out of control, but verita serum would undoubtably heighten that feeling.

"I'll pass."

Her housemates looked at her, probably wondering why she hadn't picked the serum. After all, her question did seem the easiest.

"Hmmm...interesting. We'll just have to give you a dare instead then."

The group convened about what task to give Hermione. Her ears pounded as she waited for them, unsure if she made the right choice.

Blaise decided for the group, "I dare you to kiss Malfoy."

"Wha- what?" Hermione stuttered, thinking she misheard him.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at Blaise, seeming slightly confounded too.

Blaise ignored Malfoy, clearly drunk as hell. "You heard me. That's your dare."

Ok definitely the wrong choice. Hermione gulped, still baffled by how this was going to end. She turned to Ginny for support, but the blasted girl was no where to be found.

Hermione looked around, and finally started tentatively walking over to where he stood, realizing no one was going to get her out of this. The room was spinning slightly and she struggled to maintain her footing. She felt light headed.

Malfoy's expression was indecipherable as he stared down at her. He was probably trying hard not to say anything about her dirty blood or make some rude comment about her appearance. He didn't make a move to lean his head down, even though he was considerably taller. So Hermione pushed herself onto her tippy toes, reaching up to grasp his stiff shoulders for support. The idiot wasn't even trying to help her.

She fought desperately to erase the dark images flowing into her addled mind, pictures of dreary drawing rooms and the sharp glint of a knife being forced into her skin. The small, crazed face of Bellatrix Lestrange. His aunt.

Hermione focused on Malfoy instead. He smelled like pine and mint. A fresh, natural, earthy scent. Wisps of citrus and what was probably expensive cologne drowned her. Faint drabs of alcohol tickled her nose.

Blaise never said where to kiss him, and she sure as hell wasn't going to kiss his lips, so Hermione placed a small peck on his cheek instead. She backed away again almost immediately, feeling a light buzzing on her lips where she made contact with his cool skin.

Malfoy, who had been looking at the floor the whole time, awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Well that was the weirdest thing I've ever seen," Dean relayed.

"I've watched Hagrid smooch his blast-ended skrewts with more enthusiasm than that, which is saying something."

"I got flashbacks of the time I was forced to kiss my grandmother goodbye, and she had warts on her nose. It was quite traumatic."

"I swear Miss Norris had more chemistry with the tree than you two, and lemme tell you, she took her time."

"Wait you saw that too?"

"Yeah I- "

Ron abruptly stepped forward, a red tint plastered across his freckled cheeks. "Bet you loved that, didn't you Malfoy?" He slurred.

And just like that, the strange drunken act was dropped, atmosphere reverting back to its hostile demeanor.

Hermione was about ready to give him a knock on the head for saying something so foolish, but her own mind was reeling under alcohol. She wanted to yell at him for not saying something before, but maybe he hadn't expected her to actually do it.

Malfoy glanced at Ron, sizing him up. She could see his eyes flashing in growing temper. "I hardly told her to touch me you scarlet shithead," he sneered back.

Well that was a new one.

Ron narrowed his blue eyes, shoving the same fiery red hair that Malfoy had mentioned, away from his face. He inched forward, stretching up to his full height, and slowly balled his fists.

Pansy scowled at him, looking rather repulsed by the sudden show of bravado. Harry tugged at his collar, getting ready to step in for Ron, and Millicent grimaced, as if just realizing for the first time that he was here.

Before Hermione could say anything about mindless immaturity, their ingenious squabbling was stopped suddenly by a loud crashing noise coming from the other corner of the room. Hermione jumped, startled by the shriek that followed. She blinked through the hazy room, trying to see what was going on.

And then her gaze slowly landed on Theodore Nott. Hermione's face turned pale in complete horror at the sight.

She heard more screams as the others found him too.

Dry skin was peeling like paper off his grey face. Strange black tendrils shot out from under his shirt and up his neck, his pupils were blown into wide, black circles. The tips of his fingers were dark and cracked, twitching erratically.

It was horrifyingly similar to something Hermione had seen before. She wracked her mind, trying desperately to think of what this reminded her of. And then it hit her.

Dementors.


	4. 1.4 Malfoy

Draco had known that it was a bad idea to join the game when he saw the Gryffindors there, but he was intrigued. He couldn't help it, not after seeing Potter's side chick dancing around in the crowd. Wearing that flimsy little black dress.

He knew he should have stopped her from kissing his cheek, he could have said something. Anything to get her away. But he couldn't even look at her. Not after what happened at the Manor.

And the ginger twat had to make it even more awkward by implying that he liked it. Quite the opposite actually. He'd never felt more uncomfortable than in that moment, being touched by someone he'd bullied for more than six years. Someone who was supposed to be less than him. Someone his aunt had quite extensively tortured on his floors. He could still hear the ghosts of her screams rattling portraits in the manor, washing his house in fresh waves of misery and pain. As if there wasn't enough already.

He hated all three of them. Just for a different reason now than he had before.

The party was going down hill, but that was nothing compared to what happened when they found Theo. Draco instantly knew something was very wrong in his rigid demeanor. And then he saw the wisps of black emitting from Theo's skin. The darkened rings around his eyes. The twitching.

He heard screams clanging throughout their dark common room, and then the headmistress was there levitating Theo out, while other teachers tried finding people he'd been in close contact with. There was mass confusion, people jumbled around, blinking through the bleariness, trying to see if they were hallucinating from the drinks or not.

He wanted to run after Theo and see where exactly they were taking him, but the teachers would allow no such thing. They were scared, Draco could tell.

Theo was infected.

He wondered what they did to him. Wondered if he was getting better. If he was alright.

Over the next two weeks, everyone in the party was forced into a state of isolation, being told to finish class work in dorm rooms and kept under close watch. Eventually the whole school had succumbed to the same regulations. Draco couldn't tell if he liked it or not, he was constantly spending time with Blaise and Goyle, but the two bastards were sometimes more than he could handle. And he couldn't step outside at night anymore, it was too risky.

He had no idea what was going on in the outside world, they were secluded from reality, it seemed. Plates of food and goblets appeared on their bedside tables for every meal. Scrolls of class work and instructions repeatedly popped up on their desks and dissolved at midnight, new ones re-emerging in the morning. It was fine the first week, but the cycle was agonizingly boring. Peaceful, but boring.

Draco didn't know what to do anymore as the days went by. More information about what had happened that night was slowly diffused over the worried students, who wondered exactly how extreme this virus was.

It was called The Black Plague.

The virus was supposedly passed through dementors whenever they administered the kiss to people, transmitting bacteria that was still being looked at. The Ministry of Magic didn't know if this bacteria was new, spread from one dementor and passed on, or whether it had just been dormant until now.

The bacteria transformed it's new host into a creature with properties similar to that of a dementor, which explained Theo's greying complex, black tendrils, and dried, shriveled skin. And his eyes. They eyes that seemed to look soulless, like empty pools of tar.

Draco had never seen anything like it, but it was horrifyingly close to what a dementor resembled. The Ministry stated that the virus was spread from people through intimate contact-almost always mouth to mouth-similar to a dementor's kiss, except it was a human version. Then there was also coughing and sneezing, but it was a bit less likely.

The thing is, Theo had been doing some nasty stuff at the party. With his mouth.

After further research, it was revealed that students had been exposed to the virus on the recent Hogsmeade trip that was permitted. The little village had been immediately closed down, along with several other towns and cities near London. Theo had been in "contact" with a lot of people, which meant they all probably had a high chance of catching the disease.

Draco sat in his chair, watching the waves slosh against the window in a trance. He'd been sitting for hours, trying to get his transfiguration essay done. Golye's heavy sighing snapped him out of the daze, he turned exasperated, eyeing him evenly.

"Bloody hell, Goyle if you don't shut up right now I will ram this quill up your-"

"Shove off Draco. You know how Goyle gets when he has to physically think about something. Leave the poor bloke alone."

Draco sneered back at Blaise's smirking face, "If he so much as breaths near me one more time, I'll push him out the window and drown him."

"Whales can't drown."

"Hey! I'm not a whale! The arithmancy homework is just hard." Goyle bowed his big head, pouting his lips and looking tiredly at the parchment in front of him.

"Well considering you don't know half the alphabet, I'd be surprised if you didn't find it hard. In fact, the only thing that evokes any type of effort in you whatsoever is eating."

"I beg to differ," Blaise cut in. "Goyle actually made it all the way to 'p' one time. I witnessed it with my own eyes."

"I get mixed up with the p's and d's," Goyle huffed out.

Draco wanted to bang his head against the dark wood of his desk. Over and over again. Slowly.

He was steadily going insane with these two.

"I'll be admitted into Saint Mungos without any need of a virus, you pissheads are driving me mental."

"I always knew you were fucking crazy mate. Probably lacking vitamin D. No one with skin that pasty can be healthy."

"Sod off Blaise."

_"Sod off Blaise."_

"Yes, terribly funny."

_"Yes, terribly funny."_

"Don't fucking copy me Zabini!"

_"Don't fucking copy-"_

Draco lunged at the tall Italian wanker, tugging at his robes and wrestling him to the floor.

"You little shit!"

"Ow ow ow ow ow" Blaise yelped, wriggling around to get out of the arm lock. He started yanking blindly on a leg to his side, smacking it until Draco loosened his grip.

"Can someone help me-"

"NO!" They both yelled at the struggling boy.

On the fourth week, there was rough knocking on their dormitory door. It was depressing that the simple act made Draco somewhat excited, he hadn't had a change to his routine in a long time.

Blaise crossed the floor to open the door, and in walked Mcgonagall, wearing her long velvet robes and spectacles, hair swept up in a tight knot.

Draco inwardly rolled his eyes and lazily got up to address the woman. But she looked somewhat...sad? No. More like sympathetic. He shot a look at Blaise, raising an eyebrow.

"Headmistress," said Blaise grinning, "to what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I'm afraid this visit is far from pleasurable Mr. Zabini, I have some... disheartening news for the three of you."

Draco narrowed his eyes, suddenly more concerned. Was it his mother? But that couldn't be right, it wouldn't involve Blaise and Goyle.

The headmistress continued, her voice softer than when she came in, "You all know by now that the virus is spread from dementors. Azkaban has a highly concentrated amount of them, and... your parents were staying there to serve time."

Draco stopped breathing, but his heart continued to pound painfully against his chest. He could feel Blaise and Goyle stiffen next to him.

"They have the virus."

"What- what do you mean 'they have the virus'? Are they- are they ok?" Blaise stuttered, very unlike his usually composed manner.

"As of now, there is no cure Mr. Zabini. They've changed... to put it lightly, and the more time that passes, the less the ministry can do. The health division is doing extensive research, but you're parents are, well they're gone."

Draco could see Goyle's eyes open wide, he could see Blaise trying to hide his shaking hands.

"I have money," he suddenly shot out, furious. "I can pay you, whatever you want, just help them." Surely that was what the ministry wanted, right? Because they were hated. There was no way anyone would willingly help death eaters, they simply needed a little push. "Just tell them to help."

Mcgonagall looked down at her clasped hands, shaking her head slowly. "Mr. Malfoy, that's not-"

"Is this some sick joke? JUST HELP THEM! I- I'll give you all the money. I'll do whatever the ministry wants, just- just help them!"

Mcgonagall pursed her lips, clearly distraught at the boys' reactions. She reached a hand out.

Draco backed away, sneering at her.

"They're dementors now?" Goyle asked, blinking rapidly.

"I'm afraid so," the headmistress replied tiredly, her thick accent a little heavier. "Most of your fellow housemates are under the same circumstances, as many of their parents were in Azkaban too. I'm truly sorry... but there isn't anything we can do."

First Theo, now this. Blaise balled his hands up, turning away. Draco knew he hated his mother, who'd left Blaise several times for several husbands, but she was still his family. He felt the same way about his father.

His father who simultaneously pampered him and beat him. His father who never tucked him in at night or let him track even the faintest of dirt speckles into the manor. Who shunned him for weeks after he lost his first quidditch match. Who openly treated him like shit after third year. Who brought the Dark Lord into his life.

Always disappointed. Never satisfied.

His father who was now a...

"How did it happen?"

"Mr. Zabini, they don't-"

Draco couldn't help screaming out, "Of course they don't fucking know! They never know anything. They don't know where it came from, they don't know how to cure it, and they don't know how it fucking happened!"

"Draco, I know this must be very difficult for you all," the ancient woman said, his name foreign on her mouth, "But the school will be sure to provide assistance. Make no mistake, we will be there for you."

Draco scoffed, shaking his head.

"What about my mother, does she know? Can I see her?"

"Your mother knows, but you can't see her right now. France has already started closing down large wizarding centers. They put up apparition boundaries and broomstick wards to stop traveling so the virus wouldn't spread as easily. She can't leave. Other countries are doing the same, the ministry itself will be implementing similar regulations next week."

That was it then. He wouldn't be able to see his mother, and his father was gone. He should have been glad about that, to finally be rid of the man that ruined his life. But he wasn't. He couldn't. He'd do anything for them.

He didn't look up as the headmistress rambled on about seeking guidance or taking time to talk about their feelings. He didn't hear the door shut when she finally left. He didn't acknowledge Goyle stifling his cries, or Blaise aggressively wiping his tears away. He just collapsed into his bed and stared at the green canopy above, focusing on his occlumency, until the water outside turned dark and silvery. Until his thoughts were buried far into the back of his mind. He didn't shut his eyes.

The following few days were quiet. The boys didn't know what to say to each other, or what to do. Didn't know how to react. They hadn't been given any homework, by the _generous_ courtesy of Mcgonagall. Draco barely slept. He and Blaise just sat there, staring at the giant, inky squids outside their windows while Goyle shoveled more sweets into his mouth than ever before. The silence had almost gotten deafening, the loss of their usual bickering feeling strange and wrong. Like everything else.

They weren't prepared for the loud thuds and crashes that rang on the opposite side of their dormitory door.

All three of them immediately snatched their wands and ran to open the door, sprinting down the stairs to see what was going on. The common room was in chaos. People were shoving their way out the portrait hole, shouting and screaming at each other.

Draco grabbed Pansy's shoulder, who was at the edge of the crowd. He hadn't seen her, or anyone else for that matter, since the party. "Pans, what's going on?"

Pansy turned to face him, short hair swishing back and fine eyebrows drawn up in worry, "Milly heard loud noises coming from the halls, when she opened the portrait, there were at least three of those dementor hybrids out there. They were so messed up, she couldn't even recognize their faces. We need to go."

Draco froze.

"They're just leaving?" Blaise asked, watching everyone hustle around, grabbing their things.

"Yes! Now hurry up! We have to leave now. Did Mcgonagall talk to you guys? She mentioned the wards right? We won't be able to leave the school if we're too late, the ministry's putting up boundaries all over England today. So hurry!" She shoved them towards the crowd.

Goyle pushed his way to the front, throwing people to the left and right, paving a path for the three other Slytherins who followed closely behind. When they stepped into the hallway, the temperature was astoundingly cooler. Almost freezing.

"Fucking hell," Blaise whispered, his breath huffing out in a mist.

The halls were dark, the only sounds were the echoing steps of other Slytherins running off, probably towards the dungeon stairs that led back up. Draco pulled out his wand.

"Lumos."

He desperately hoped they wouldn't encounter any of these 'dementor hybrids', as Pansy had put it. He didn't think any of them could actually conjure a patronus. Didn't even know if that would work on these things.

They followed the loud footsteps up winding stairs, running through empty hallways and finally to the great hall, where the large entrance doors of Hogwarts stood nearby. It was only their house that was running out though. No one else. Draco wondered if the teachers knew what was going on. If the other students knew. They were all confined in their own rooms, but they should have heard by now, what with all the ruckus the Slytherins had caused by running out.

Was anyone going to tell them?

Draco shook the thought out of his head, they didn't have time for that right now. They had to get out.

The group ran out the big doors and onto the grounds, the crisp November night wind swirling through their robes and bristling their hair. They made a beeline across the stone bridge, to the edge of the Hogwart's property, where Slytherins apparated out without hesitation in dark swirls.

Draco yanked Blaise, Goyle, and Pansy close, grabbing their robes. He looked back to the school, his eyes falling on a small figure looking through one of the windows, a dim light shining behind her.

The next minute, after a strange sensation of twisting and dissolving into a black mist, they appeared outside a pair of gangly, towering gates, surrounded by dark green cypress hedges.

Malfoy Manor.


	5. 1.5 Granger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the huge chapter, but I really tried to fit most of Hermione's back story in so that I could move on with the real plot after the next chapter. This one is really crazy and there's a lot going on so feel free to ask questions if something doesn't make sense. Thanks for all the patience, I'm really glad people like the story so far! So without further ado, here's chapter 5. Happy reading!

_The Bubonic Plague was caused by the bacteria, Yersinia Pestis, spread by fleas carried on merchant ships. Commonly known as the Black Death, this disease spread like wildfire throughout Europe and Asia during the mid 1300's. Flu-like symptoms took about a week to develop, including fever, headaches, vomiting, fatigue, swollen lymph nodes, chills and more. Although the Black Death does not pose as much of a threat as it did before, the virus was detrimental to the population of Europe, as physicians relied on cruel, useless tactics such as bloodletting and boil-lancing to treat it. Seen as 'God's Punishment' on the human world, the plague took lives left and right, a 'retaliation' for the greed and blasphemy of treacherous people. Now days, the virus is very rare, spread by insect bites and stings, with a low mortality rate of 10 percent._

Hermione's head was buried deep into her book, eyes droning over every word, trying to make sense of what she was reading. It was a historical piece on what muggles called the Bubonic Plague, a disease that had once ravished two thirds of Europe. It was very much like the one that had started spreading aggressively across the world now, except the current one seemed far more dangerous.

Over the last four weeks, the highly contagious pandemic had spread into almost every country. People were unprepared for such a forceful strike against humanity, which only helped spread the disease faster. Already, incubation centers were overflowing with the dementor hybrids. Many had actually broken out of their quarantine, and with no cure to pass around, the odds of surviving were very low. Entire cities were shut down to help prevent spreading, France was apparently the first country to start implementing these procedures, procuring apparition and broomstick boundaries, which England was likely follow.

Hogwarts itself had become quite a ghost of it's former school, at least that's what Hermione felt. No one was allowed outside their dorm rooms anymore, and she hadn't seen Harry or Ron in more than a month. Of course, she understood the logic in all of it- the less contact, the better- but that didn't mean she had to like it.

Hermione couldn't even go to the damn library anymore, she was lucky to have snatched this book a while back before it shut down for good. The year was supposed to be about getting a fresh start, about forgetting the past and moving on with her life. But the world had other ideas.

Ever since Theodore Nott had been taken away, among many others, for hosting the virus, life had changed drastically. No more eating in the Great Hall, no more visiting Hagrid, no more Arithmency class. Hermione tried to make the best of her situation, but isolation was hard to say in the least. She missed her best friends.

Lavender and Parvati had no source of gossip anymore, so instead, the four girls had to entertain each other with stories. The only upside about being locked in their dorm room together was getting to know more about each other. Hermione had known these girls for the majority of her life, especially Ginny, but there was a certain closeness they created during this time that even the war hadn't brought on.

They just talked and talked and talked. About everything they hadn't been able to spell out before. Random things. Sad things. Homework. Memories of their childhoods. Funny stories. People they missed.

Hermione set down her book to join in the conversation that Ginny had initiated that evening. They sat in a circle on the floor, surrounded by thick crimson blankets, chocolate frogs, and a bright lantern. She was talking about the time Peeves the Poltergeist had snuck up from behind and flown right through her, causing Ginny to drop her books, unfortunately, onto the person in front of her. Poor little professor Flitwick had been practically pummeled by the avalanche of her large textbooks, his tiny arms flailing widely through the air, grasping for anything to pull him out.

The girls were quite litterally gasping for breath at this point in the story, heaving and rolling around on the floor, with their legs up in the air. It was the type of story that made no sense what so ever, but had them throwing themselves down in fits of giggles.

Ginny brushed tears out of her eyes, trying to continue, "And- and then- I just so- sort of stood there. Not knowing what to do. I- I should have helped him but- but Peeves had flown off- with- get this- with his glasses! And so- Flitwick was just rolling around on the floor- helpless and blind, co- covered under my books- screaming for- for his mum!"

"St- stop! I- I can't take any more!" Hermione yelled out, her hands desperately clawing at her belly to ease the growing pang of laughing too hard.

"Gi- Ginny- what the hell- is wrong- with you! Why- why didn't you help the poor bloke!" Parvati sputtered out, eyes watering.

"I- I tried! I really tried! But then Peeves came back with- a fucking shoe box- and- and he just started yelling at Flitwick to get in- and I just lost it!"

"He- he did what!" Lavender shrieked, her shoulders bobbing up and down with laughter.

Hermione hoisted herself up from the floor, scattering chocolate frogs and stumbling over to the windows in need of fresh air for her aching lungs. She undid the latch, pushing the panes open, and gulped in the cool breeze.

It was then that she noticed dark splotches of mist swirling around across the stone bridge. She saw tiny figures darting across the dark school grounds, they might have been yelling, but Hermione couldn't hear over the wind. People were trying to apparate out.

"I think somethings wrong," she told the other girls, beckoning them over to the window sill. They silenced quickly and watched in confusion as the tiny figures below ran to the edge of the Hogwart's grounds and apparated out. "They're all leaving." At first, they only saw robes of Slytherin green, but now there were flashes of blues and yellows too.

"We need to see what's happening," Ginny said, grabbing her wand.

"Wait, if we end up leaving today, we're going to need some things, in case of emergency. Pack a small bag." She grabbed her small, pink pouch, which was enchanted to expand once things were added. She shoved in a pair of clothes, two blankets, the rest of the chocolate frogs, a small vial of pepper up potion, and draught of peace. The vials had been laying on her bedside table, either as a prize from potions class, or unused from her previous days. Finally grabbing her wand, she and the other girls flung the dormitory doors open and ran down the stairs.

Others seemed to have noticed there was something off too, many of the Gryffindors were rushing out the portrait hole, trying to see what was going on. When Ginny managed to locate Harry and Ron, Hermione followed her over to them, trying to navigate through the growing crowd.

"Bloody hell! Did you guys see them apparating out?" Ron asked, rubbing a hand over the side of his face.

"Seamus told us that someone saw those dementor hybrids in the halls," Harry added, steering the girls toward the portrait hole. "We need to leave, it isn't safe here."

Hermione's heart wrenched. It wasn't the first time someone had said that. Hogwarts was their home. Why was it that they always seemed to be running away?

"Have any of you seen Trevor? I swear he was here just a moment ago."

"Neville! Not now!" Hermione sighed exasperatedly at the tall boy. His timing was seriously off. "We really need to go."

"Just hang on a second, I think I saw him in that corner," Neville pleaded, running over to where he supposed Trevor the toad was.

They stayed for him, tapping their shoes and glancing around, unable to stand still while everyone else was running for their lives out of the school. When Neville finally hurried back, holding the stupid amphibian up in the air, yelling, "I found him!", they hustled out the portrait hole, probably the last few to be leaving.

Hermione instantly felt goosebumps raise on her skin when they stepped into the hallway, cool blasts of air hitting her arms. It was one of the tell-tail signs that a dementor was nearby. That along with a sudden sensation of fear.

They ran down the Gryffindor tower, a bright light emitting from the ends of their wands to lead the way. As they ran through the ghostly halls, Hermione noticed that many of the figures in the school portraits had disappeared, they'd probably fled off to hide somewhere.

The five of them rounded the last corridor, entering the space right in front of the Great Hall, where the large entrance doors of the school stood nearby. They ran outside, keeping a look out for any of the 'dementor-hybrids' that had been mentioned before. There was no one else left now, as they made their way across the bridge, rushing to get away from the contaminated castle. They couldn't risk taking their time because all of them had seen what happened to Theodore Nott, and the lack of a cure made their feet move faster.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione paled at the dark figure she saw stumbling out of the school doors. She had to squint a little to make it out, but the ridged posture, black wisps, and dull expression made it obvious what she was looking at.

They had to get out. Now.

They reached the apparition spot, huddling together, each person grabbing for the other's sleeve.

"Think of Grimuald Place," Harry instructed them, closing his eyes.

Hermione felt the tug of a vacuum in her chest, and just as she felt her arms evaporating, the feeling stopped.

It didn't work.

"Try- try again," Harry suggested, glancing back to where the hybrid was walking.

Nothing.

"What's going on?" Ginny asked, coils of desperation creeping into her voice.

They couldn't apparate for some reason. They couldn't get out.

"We're too late," Hermione realized. "The ministry was supposed to put up apprarion wards and broomstick boundaries to stifle the spread of the virus, I think they've already done it. We're too late."

"Well, we can't just wait here." Ron said, scanning the school behind them, "What about the boat house? That way we could use the canoes to escape. At the very least we wouldn't be seen as easily."

Harry shook his head, "It's too risky. The boat house is small, and there might be a hybrid down there. Encountering one isn't an option right now, we don't know anything about them."

"The Forbidden Forest," Neville suggested, his face partially red, "We could hide in there, we don't have to go in too deep or anything." He was still holding on to Trevor. Hermione knew he probably blamed himself for getting them late, but she couldn't be mad at him. She would have done the same for Crookshanks, and they never would have left Neville behind for anything either way. In fact, she couldn't help but feel proud of him, he had changed so much, but the war still hadn't taken away whatever it was that made him such a caring person.

Ron was right though, they couldn't just stand there, they had to make a choice, and the Forbidden Forest was the only option that made the most sense. Anywhere near the castle wasn't safe. At least in the cover of trees, they would be afforded some sort of protection. In a split decision, they sprinted towards the edge of the Dark Forest, uncertain if they were saving themselves, or taking a giant step closer to death.  
  
  


Hermione didn't think life could change more, but her current situation was like a slap in the face. During the month that they had stayed hidden within the edge of the Forbidden Forest everything had gotten impossibly worse.

In the last thirty days, pure survival was the only priority on the forefront of their minds. The earth had taken on a grey, dreary hue, as if the fire in it's core had sputtered out. The UK hardly got much sun to begin with, but now, the only thing separating day and night was cobalt and black. She knew it wasn't just because of a particularly harsh winter season, dementors tended to do that to their surroundings. They were creatures of despair and woe, their proximity alone was enough to turn everything depressing. And there had been a quite a few of those hybrids coming out of the school. They may have been a few people trapped inside who hadn't been able to apparate away, or maybe the professors, but the castle had been spitting out dementors more and more.

They hadn't gotten too close to the forest yet, instead roaming around the school grounds, tripping mindlessly over pebbles or hiding in the shadows. There were a lot of shadows now. But no sun.

Hermione could see them sometimes, if she dared to step close enough the the edge of the tree line. The Gryffindors had made a tiny tepee from fallen branches and twigs, covering it with her blanket and casting warming charms around to keep the winter chill away. It was cramped, but warm enough stave off hypothermia. Water was easily handled, as a simple _aguamenti_ spell provided them with this essential. Starvation, however, proved to be a bigger problem.

They couldn't live off the chocolate frogs in Hermione's pouch, which they had decided would be more useful for another time. They also couldn't transfigure small objects into large amounts of nutritional food, it wasn't something they had learned yet. So the five of them split off each morning, searching for berries, roots, and if lucky, a squirrel to roast. Hermione's thorough reading of Hogwarts: A History gave her insight on which of the greens in this forest were edible and which were poisonous.

Burdock, milkweed, dandelion, gooseberries. Boiled in distilled water to get rid of bacteria and dirt.

Stay away from water hemlock and deadly nightshade.

The winter didn't make matters any better, with snow covering precious plants on the ground and most animals hidden away in hibernation. Each of them had probably lost a little less than five pounds. Neville had been quite stubborn in refusing to eat any animal at first, but as the days hurried on, he relented under the hunger. Ron had eyed Nevill's toad a few times, licking his lips in an obviously predatory way. They had to hold him back on these days, reminding him that Neville would never forgive him. Returning to the castle for food was never an option, so they tried their best with what they could manage.

The large forest trees loomed high above their heads, blocking out grey clouds and ashen skies with dark, juniper greens and olive blacks, silvery with snow. Hermione hated how the smallest things triggered her memory in such a traumatic manner. The gangly limbs and branches reminded her persistently of the night in the woods when they had been caught by snatchers, a group of bounty hunters working under Voldemort. The way Scabior's rough fingers had closed around her neck, violently tugging her hair back. The hungry way his eyes had lingered on her form, making her want to vomit on spot. His indecent snarling next to her ears as he shoved Hermione towards the manor. The manor. Where she was-

"Mione? Is there something wrong?" Harry's voice called from the tepee, pulling her back to reality. She blinked, looking down to notice that her hands had been shaking.

"It's just the wind Harry, I'm a bit cold, that's all," she lied.

He walked over, taking her hands and wrapping his fingers over hers, rubbing some warmth into them. He proceeded to take out his wand and cast a small heating spell. "Feel better now?", he asked softly. Ron had come over too, rubbing her shoulders gingerly, overhearing what she said about being cold.

Hermione nodded back, giving them a small smile. She really was great full to have such loving friends.

They were abruptly cut short by a loud popping noise from behind them. Ginny and Neville ran out of the tepee, having heard the strange sound as well. A man had appeared from a black shroud, Hermione thought she recognized him from somewhere. Yes, he worked for the ministry, a close friend of Kingsley Shackelbolt.

"Harry Potter!" He called out, looking highly relieved upon seeing the group. "We've been searching for you and your friends for quite a while. You need to come with me."

"How did you find us? And go with you where? Actually, who are you?" Harry asked, clearly confused. Everyone was confused. Weren't there appartion wards to keep people from traveling?

"I work for the ministry, under the health division, we've been working to find you lot since Hogwarts first fell. It took weeks to finally trace your magical signature back here-"

"What about the apparition wards?" Hermione cut him off, her brows furrowed in perplexity.

"I was given special permission from the ministry, now hurry, I just have a few minutes and I can only take two of you at a time. I say we start with you two," the man pointed to Harry and Ron.

"Absolutely not," Ron replied, "I'm not leaving my sister and my friends here alone."

"Yeah," Harry agreed narrowing his eyes at the ministry worker. "Find a way where we can all go together."

"Look," the man shot back, tersely, "We can't argue about this. I don't have much time, the safe heaven is in France, and I promise to pick the others up right after dropping you two off. The ministry can't keep the apparition wards open for me much longer. We need to go."

France. Across the English Channel. Capitol city Paris. National flower Iris. Three vertical bands of blue, white, and red.

Far from here.

"Why can't you take the girls first, or call more people?" Neville asked, beckoning over to where Hermione and Ginny were standing. She knew the reason. Harry was the war hero, he was the highest priority of the ministry. She completely understood why, they needed him to keep the peace. Harry was the face of the war, he would help calm people down and run things smoothly. And Ron was his right hand man, his best friend.

"The world is in a pandemic right now! Half the population is gone and the other half is busy fighting the virus and keeping society under control, we can't afford to send-"

"It's ok," Hermione rushed out, putting a hand on Neville, "We don't have much time for this, we'll be fine. You two need to go."

"Hermione-," Ron started.

Ginny backed her up, "She's right Ron, you guys need to go with him, he'll be back for us. It's fine, we'll see you soon, yeah?"

Harry and Ron looked like the wanted to argue, but Hermione shut them up with a stern glare, they really couldn't be wasting time right now. If they had the chance to get out of here, then they should take it, she wanted them to.

Harry shook his head, placing a small kiss on Ginny's cheek and trudging over to where the man stood waiting. Ron followed hesitantly, "This is a bad idea," he said, "We shouldn't be splitting up."

"Everything's going to be fine, we'll see you soon," Ginny said.

The ministry worker put a hand on both the boys, turning back to look at the rest of them, "Don't go anywhere too far, it'll take a long time for us to trace your magical signatures again, especially if you're constantly moving. I should be back soon."

Harry shared a look with Neville, "Keep them safe, Nev," he said.

"Of course, you know I will, " Neville nodded his head determinedly.

Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes. _Boys_. As if she and Ginny couldn't take care of themselves. Whatever, she supposed it was sort of cute in a way.

They took one last look at the three of them before disappearing away in a dark swirl.   
  
  


Ron had been right. They really shouldn't have split up.

It had been a matter of mere minutes after they had gone that everything went tragically downhill.

Neville had done his job too well, he was gone now. He was _gone_.

They hadn't seen the dementor hybrid creep up from the dark shadows of the trees. They hadn't been prepared for it.

The creature had clawed at Hermione, dragging her down, reaching for her face. Her wand had tumbled away from her fingers after the collision. Ginny tried casting a patronus, desperately yelling _expelliarmus._ A short, white wisp emitted from her wand. Nothing more. It was almost laughable. Almost.

Neville had jumped on the creature, pulling it off Hermione. She barely had time to reach her wand and get back up before it kissed him, sucking in his soul with its sickening mouth.

"Run!" He choked out, slamming the dementor in the head with a rock. Ginny and Hermione didn't run, they came closer, trying to shake the dementor off. Hermione tried casting her own patronus, willing the preppy little otter to appear, but it didn't. She couldn't produce one anymore. Since when?

She had tears in her eyes. It wouldn't have mattered if they got rid of the dementor. Neville had already been kissed. They didn't have a cure.

It was hopeless.

Neville realized that too. "Go!" He screamed at them, holding the hybrid back. She'd never seen him like this, not even when he had killed Nagini.

"We can't leave you," Ginny cried back, fumbling to grab a stick, hitting the dementor hard. Useless.

"Just go! Please! I promised them!"

In a few seconds, more of them would appear, drawn to the noise and commotion. Ginny gasped, choking on her own tears and pulling at Hermione to run. They stumbled away in a daze, blindly rushing over fallen branches, crushing snow beneath their boots.

She tried not to think about leaving Neville. Alone. To suffer.

The ministry worker had told them not to go anywhere, but the girls didn't have a choice. It was too dangerous to stay. They ran out of the forest, sprinting to the dirt path that led to train tracks. The one they had come from earlier that year, on carriages led by thestrals.

And then they followed the tracks, not knowing what else to do. The tracks would take them back to King's Cross Station, in London. Maybe there, they would be able to find people belonging to the ministry, or get a ride if the train was still working. Staying put wasn't an option, they couldn't linger in one area for too long.

Hogwarts was deep in the rolling hills of Galloway, Scotland, it would take many months to walk back to London, probably even a year. But the hills were also devoid of too many people, so there wouldn't be many encounters with the dementor hybrids, if at all. The Hogwart's train tracks ran over mostly rural, hilly areas, to remain inconspicuous and far from most muggles. Away from dementor infested cities.

The journey was long and tiresome. They had to rely heavily on their wands and the small pouch. They stuck to eating herbs, scavenging along the way for fruits and nuts. Hermione hadn't prepared for such an enduring trip. But it gave her time to think. About how it was all her fault. Her fault that Neville had been kissed. Her fault that they had to do this.

Her fault.

Her fault.

Her fault.


	6. 1.6 Malfoy

Draco leaned against the balcony of his bedroom, listening to the soft hush of wind rushing through grass blades of rolling hills beyond. Snowy peacocks wandered around in the garden below, surrounded by poppies and honeysuckles. The moon's pearly white beams were the only source of light for miles, shining bright against Stygian skies. He felt small in the openness, but somehow grounded. It wasn't the astronomy tower, but it was calming to his strange nyctophilia nonetheless. Like a beacon. For what? Draco didn't know.

He had woken up from his sleep, sweaty and dehydrated, pulled out from the dream that had engulfed him.

_The muggle studies teacher, Charity Burbage, dangled lifelessly above his dining table, pale and soaked in blood. Flaps of skin hung off her arms and legs, glistening crimson under the gloom of the chandelier. Nagini had just finished feasting on her, leaving fang holes dotted around her body._

_Everyone had been forced to watch. Including Draco. The worst part was, he couldn't look away. The Dark Lord would know if he did. He couldn't look away. Not when she screamed her voice hoarse, or even as the blood slowly leaked out from the deep gashes along her throat, making her finger tips blue and pale._ _Draco held himself from recoiling as the last of her tears ran down the sides of her cheeks, splashing against the surface below._ _He wanted to leave, he needed to vomit. But he couldn't. Instead, he shoved his shaking hands under the table, desperately swallowing his bile and trying not to flinch as Nagini left the body._

_"Get rid of her," the Dark Lord sighed, caressing his serpent on the head. "I feel rather hungry."_

_"Yes, my Lord," Yaxley immediately rose from the table, using his wand to move the limp body out of the room._

_"What's on the menu today, Narcissa darling?" The Dark Lord rasped out in a disgustingly coy manner._

_His mother quickly snapped her polished fingers, summoning the house elves, who appeared with China plates of chicken, mutton stew, bread rolls, baked potato, and greens. They set the table quickly, making sure to keep their gaze on the ground at all times. They didn't make a sound, even as Bellatrix harshly kicked them around._

_When all was prepared, everyone dove into their food, after the Dark Lord had taken the first bite of course._

_Draco didn't move, he was sure that if he picked up the spoon, it would clank against his plate so hard, the dish would shatter. He gulped the pain in his throat away, staring blankly at the space in front of him. They hadn't even wiped the table clean of the blood from her body._ _He could still smell the metallic scent of gore spreading through the room._ _How could they eat here? When someone had just been devoured by that demonic reptilian not even a few minutes back._

_"Eat," his father spat in his ear, careful to avoid drawing attention._

_"I can't," Draco whispered in a shaky breath, hoping dreadfully that his father would just excuse him from the room._

_"I said eat! Do not disobey me_ _Draco_ _," his father growled back through clenched teeth, all the while keeping eye contact with his own plate._

_Draco couldn't eat. Not here. He glanced around the table. People were starting to look. Snape raised an eyebrow at him. The Dark Lord would know. He always knew. Draco raised his hand, keeping it stiff so that the trembling wouldn't be revealed. He reached out for his spoon and dipped it into the stew, bringing it back to his mouth._

_He chewed slowly, trying hard not to think about Charity Burbage's dead, wrangled body. Praying to Merlin that she wouldn't come back to haunt his dreams._

Draco left the balcony and stepped back inside, warming his hands by the fireplace. His bedroom was the same as when he'd left all those months ago, a photo of a blond family on his dark, oak desk. Viridian green curtains billowing against a large, opened window. A velvety black couch positioned in front of the fireplace. The dragon carvings around a clear mirror, black ties strewn near his wardrobe. The rest of his home, however, was not so enticing. Everything was tainted; Smeared and soaked under a paint of despair.

The first thing they had checked when arriving at the manor was the floo system, which obviously hadn't worked, probably shut down by the ministry. That had been almost a year ago.

The four of them instantly took inventory of the food storage hidden in the manor. All of their parents, excluding Draco's mother, had been infected, so there wasn't really anywhere else to go. In the safety of the manor, there was little to worry about. They spent their days fumbling around the kitchen in their sad attempts of making edible food, watching the land for any sign of human life, and whiling away time by talking. It would have been like a nice little vacation, except for the ongoing destruction of the outside world.

The mansion was relatively sequestered from society, so there wasn't any need to board up windows or block doors. That would have been quite hard since there were so many of those anyway. The only source of information they got was from the Daily Prophet, which contained increasingly devastating news, like "Black Plague Creates Global Catastrophe, Infecting Millions Per Day". Draco didn't realize how incessant he had been on reading it until the paper stopped coming in months ago, the last headline nothing but three eerie words: "London Has Fallen". After that, they were kept completely in the dark.

His friends slept in the guest rooms, each of them having their own from previous sleepovers in younger years. Although, he was fairly certain that he had seen Blaise exiting Pansy's room once or twice. Draco didn't mind much, he and Pansy had more or a friends-with-benefits type of relationship. They both warmed each others beds sometimes, and in the morning, it was forgotten. He wondered why Blaise and Pansy were so secretive about it though.

The next morning, as the four of them were eating breakfast around a table filled with toast, marmalade, and water goblets, Pansy startled them with worrying news, "The storage is almost empty. A few handfuls of grain and a couple fruit preserves left. It looks like there's only enough for about one more week."

They sat there, staring at her with open mouths. Draco slowly turned his head, eyeing Goyle suspiciously. "You little bastard! You ate all the food?"

Goyle furrowed his brows, shaking his big head furiously, "Did not!"

"Draco, we've been staying here almost a year, it was bound to run out at some point," Pansy reminded him, rubbing her temples.

"Oh come on," Blaise interrupted, "we all know Goyle's had more than his fair share. I say we eat him first."

"Yeah," Draco snarled, licking his lips, "He'll last us another year."

Pansy relented and joined in, picking up her fork and jabbing it at the air in front of Goyle.

Goyle's eyes had opened up wide, his thick fingers dropped the toast he'd been munching on. The idiot seemed genuinely scared.

They chuckled at his frightened expression, "Don't worry Greg, we're not actually going to eat you."

"Yet," Pansy added, winking at him. "But anyway, I don't think we can stay here much longer."

"You think we should move?" Blaise asked, titling his head.

Draco scoffed, "What, like nomads?"

"What's a nomad?" That was a little ironic coming from Goyle.

"We don't have much of a choice," Pansy said ignoring him and rolling her eyes, "We can't apparate and there isn't any other source of food around here for miles, unless you boys know how to garden."

Draco wrinkled his nose. Getting his hands dirty? No. He could hardly imagine himself wearing a floppy sun hat, holding a shovel with mud caked fingers. He grimaced at what his father might have said. Not that they had gardening supplies or vegetable seeds anyway, they'd never needed it.

"If we're going to move, we should find a way out of here, where people can help us."

"King's Cross Station is the largest wizarding travel center near us, we might be able to find someone from the ministry there," Draco suggested. Maybe the train still worked, they'd finally be rid of this hell hole.

"How close is it?" Blaise asked.

"We're in Wiltshire, so it'll take about a week or two to walk there. We can take the remaining food with us."

"So it's settled then- we're really leaving? What if it's worse out there?"

"It's either that or starvation," Draco replied, "and we've already agreed not to eat Goyle."  
  
  


They didn't pack much, just tiny satchels filled with the last bits of fruit preserves, a pair of clothes, a blanket, and lastly, their wands. Draco shoved on some dark trousers and shuffled a navy sweater over his head, everything else he owned wasn't quite travel appropriate. He met the others in the foyer to make last minute checks before they left the manor for good.

When the Slytherins were done, they stepped through the large doors, bounding down stairs into broad daylight. Draco looked back at the gazebo and pond, he stared up at the lanky hedges, and finally took one last glance at the manor. It was dark and pointy, obsidian against emerald hills. Only time would wash the sorrow away. Hopefully, if he ever saw the building again, it would be different.

Then they walked down the long path, towering gates creaking as they pushed through to exit.

The manor was entrenched between wide mounts and rolling valleys. They walked about nine miles each day, and rested at nightfall, under a barren sky. Draco's back ached from sleeping on the ground so much, his legs burned from all that hiking and his mouth parched up too easily. His hair was disgracefully unkempt and his boots were dirty. That with Goyle's recurrently loud huffing, Blaise's attempts to liven the mood, and Pansy's constant complaining just about ruined him. They washed in skinny rivers, tossed rocks around to pass time, made tiny fires at night, and rambled on to fill the silence. The grass seemed endless, the horizon a plain grey smear of nothingness as far as the eye could see.

It was on the twelfth day, at the crack of dawn, that they finally stepped through a clearing of trees, into the ghostly streets of Harrow. None of them knew much about muggle England, so they depended meekly on faded directional signs and boards scattered throughout the roads. Buildings were empty and worn, bricks crumbled down from the sides after months of neglect. Wild and overgrown plants cracked through the pavement and crept along walls, vines entwined around doorknobs and railings. Glass from shattered windows layered the ground, crunching sharply beneath their boots. They could hear the wind whistling an eerie tune through the streets, banging shutters and shaking doors, a nightmarish lull. Closed signs dangled against road side shops, vacant of life. Houses were devoid of light, unoccupied and lonely. The closer they edged to London, the worse the city looked, even under sunlight. Draco didn't want to see it in the dark. He could smell the soft scent of burning of wood, carried over by the breeze. As they went deeper, an orange haze burned in the sky, but Draco couldn't tell where it was coming from.

London had been one of the most bustling social centers of the world, but now it appeared to be a broken skeleton of its former beauty. A dark, forsaken city. A desolate waste land of ash and bone.

The four of them walked quickly and silently, cringing whenever their footsteps made loud echoes. When afternoon crept in, the sky turning a murky, ghoulish grey, the need to find shelter before nightfall became imperative; No one wanted to be out in the streets after the only source of light had sunk. They didn't know what the city held, what lurked inside. Draco didn't want to find out.

They finally reached the station as the last wisps of dull sunlight vanished. Draco's eyes instantly fell upon an old, muggle train stretching along the tracks. He looked up to take in the '9' and '10' signs hanging by the station roof.

"You think platform 9 and 3/4 still works?" Blaise asked, the first thing any of them had said in a while.

"Only one way to find out," Pansy replied, attempting to walk through the barrier.

She ended up hitting her head. "Fuck."

Goyle lumbered over, running face first into the wall. They definitely heard a crunch from some part of his body hitting hard cement. Draco stifled a laugh, but quickly stopped, realizing their was no way into the wizarding world. The full weight of their situation hit him like a rouge bludger. They were in one of the most populated cities with nowhere to go. They didn't have anything else, no plan B. It felt like the last resort had slipped through their fingers. And night was falling.

"What do we do? Pansy questioned, gingerly rubbing her forehead.

"We can't stay out here, let's just take cover in one of the compartments for tonight," Draco said, gesturing to the train. They didn't really have many options.

The Slytherins boarded the train with their wands out, crossing the door's threshold and entering with caution. The compartments were divided into dark blue cushioned seats of four. They walked down the aisle, stepping around gleaming silver railings, trying to find a space that wasn't so close to the door. Outside the windows, it was almost pitch black.

As they reached the end of the train car, a faint, but noticeable rustling noise emitted from the room beyond. Before Draco could yell at Blaise to stop, he slid open the door to the next car, and all of a sudden, the four of them were immediately met with a flood of bright light impaling their faces. Draco shoved his arms up, squinting and desperately trying to cover his blinded eyes. He could hear Pansy shrieking and Goyle yelping next to him.

When the light died down, he only had a few seconds to make out two haggard looking girls standing with their wands pointed menacingly at their faces before the shouting started. One with suspiciously orange hair. The other with unmistakably devious, chocolate curls.

"What the fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright people, buckle up. The next chapter is going to be quite the ride.


End file.
